


Take Me Flying

by Megalohdon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angelstuck, M/M, Sadstuck, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How…?” He breaks the silence, like shattering a glass plate against a marble counter top, though it’s a lot more awkward and quieter than the comparison. You don’t really know ‘how’ exactly. Well, you did, but you didn’t quite understand the concept in itself, “You took the hints I left and realized that, perhaps, some part of me was still around. You didn’t quite let go of me, and you did accept that I was around. Of course you couldn’t see me, but I did make myself known in rather obvious forms. Like moving the remote into the bathroom like I used to. Though it didn’t anger you as it did when I was alive. To be frank here, Strider, you didn’t lose hope in me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Flying

**Author's Note:**

> Need to read "Spread Your Wings First" to understand what is going on.

He’s staring at you, eyes rather wide in disbelief as you sat beside him on the couch. You weren’t even supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to see you but here you were. You can tell he’s hurt and a bit stunned but really there wasn’t much you could do. Throw your arms up and yell surprise? No, that’s a comical response, and this was most definitely not a comical moment.

If you squinted and tilted your head a bit you could see he was crying. You knew it was because he was happy. Scared and surprised, but happy. You’d been sitting here for five minutes, twiddling your thumbs together as you draw your eyes down. You know he’s happy, which is great. It’s the first time in months he has been, but he’s still crying, and it’s because of you. You still can’t handle knowing you can cause him to do that.

“How…?” He breaks the silence, like shattering a glass plate against a marble counter top, though it’s a lot more awkward and quieter than the comparison. You don’t really know ‘how’ exactly. Well, you did, but you didn’t quite understand the concept in itself, “You took the hints I left and realized that, perhaps, some part of me was still around. You didn’t quite let go of me, and you did accept that I was around. Of course you couldn’t see me, but I did make myself known in rather obvious forms. Like moving the remote into the bathroom like I used to. Though it didn’t anger you as it did when I was alive. To be frank here, Strider, you didn’t lose hope in me.”

“I mean… At first I noticed all the shit making its way around the house on its own and hell I thought I did it and forgot. It’s not as if I never did it before. But… Certain things were moved to places only you would put them. I never would take the remote to the bathroom, that’s gross and unsanitary, thank you for that by the way, and I guess I was just clinging to what I assumed was false hope but… Well look, here you are, so I guess it wasn’t.”

The corners of your lips twitch a bit as you bring up a smile. You can’t help it, and it’s bittersweet, but it’s there and you savor it. Really it’s the first true smile you have had in a good while. He scoots closer to you a bit, but not all the way. He’s still hesitating, and you don’t blame him. Even for you it’s hard to believe that, though not alive, you are still here. Granted you aren’t a zombie either, but you existed, and that was all that mattered.

He scratches at his wrist, a nervous tick you noticed he did quite often. He was looking at your hands, but you kept them still. He craved your touch, but he had to be willing to give you his first. He had to trust that you were real, that it wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a dream and you weren’t going anywhere. You couldn’t go anywhere; you were his for an eternity.

There’s more silence, as expected, but he’s gradually moving closer. You stay still, scared that if you do decide to move towards him, he will flee and hide off somewhere. Of course that’s the last thing you want, so you let him advance at his own pace. You attempt eye contact, but it’s off seeing as you haven’t tried to do so in such a long time. You’ve nearly forgotten how to locate his eyes beneath his shades.

You had hardly noticed that he had grasped your hand, shaking quite a bit but you clasp back. You swear you hear him gasp quietly, but you allow him to take whatever step he needs to understand you are real. Your eyes had fallen to his hand and your own, the smile you swear that had never fallen from your lips grew. It was hard to stop it, and truly you didn’t care. You noticed that he too, under fear and tears, was managing a smile. It was becoming more of a reality for you both, something you both needed to have for this to be true, to be real.

His shaking subsides slowly into small tremors, your gaze drifting back up to his face, examining his expressions and his features. This moment was months in the making, something you had desired and longed for. You can’t speak for him, of course. To him, you were gone. You were buried in the cemetery four blocks away, but you weren’t here. You were alive in his heart; at least, you knew that. But it was a task for you to get him to understand you were still there, you would never dare think of leaving him alone.

In due time he seems to settle down a bit and he slips his arms around your torso, pulling you close as he buries his face in your neck. Your arms return the gesture, holding him close but you stay silent. He inhales, taking in your scent, something you believe that helps him make this that more real. You don’t mind though, because you can feel him again, truly feel him, and he’s reciprocating, which really is the most amazing thing in the world, to feel him once more. You think that you’ll never lose this again, you can’t survive without him.

He shifts his head and you crane your neck back to look down at him. He’s peering over your shoulders, and you know what he’s looking at. You don’t really blame him, they were quite a bit… large and rather obvious. He doesn’t blink or say anything, you just let him stare. You were an angel and, even if you did lack the cliché halo, you did have the wings to prove it. A nice golden green tint, surprisingly lightweight too. Lighter than you expected, at least.

He reaches out, fingers brushing against a few feathers and you shudder a bit, causing him to draw back. You shake your head, “No, no. It’s fine. It just feels good, is all…” He doesn’t question you, just allows his hand to reach back up and brush along the path the feathers lie in. You attempt to fight back a quiet hum but it breaks free anyways. Dirk seems rather intrigued, shifting so he’s cradled in your lap, pin pointing a particular feather on your right wing to brush his fingertip against the barbs.

The wing twitches a bit and you bite your lip gently. You didn’t think such contact would be that stimulating, but Dirk was king in proving you wrong about such things. He just smiles, mouth buried into your shoulder as he watches his hands glide against your silk feathers. Your reactions seem to please him so he doesn’t stop, but he’s getting antsy. He’s shifting around in your lap, his touches gain speed, but never lose their delicacy. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes slip shut until they pried themselves open and glanced down at him. It takes him a second to notice but he faintly turns his head to glance up at you, grinning into your over vest. It’s… Adorable, to say the least but you keep that comment to yourself. You don’t need him punching you.

He sits up, clinging to your shoulders, forehead resting on yours. He’s removed his shades, he remembers you hate how they press into your face. They leave uncomfortable red marks that make you look like a clown. He finds it funny but you hated it, and the way he laughed at your face. All in good fun or not, you felt a little vulnerable to his humor which… Wasn’t always the best thing.

A hand of yours rests on his hip, the other slipping under him to keep his jeans from pressing into your leg. Of course he assumes you’re coping a feel, gives you an odd look, and brushes his fingers against your left wing before his arms draped over your shoulder. Another lip bite and it seems he’s generating the reactions he wants from you. Looks like you have become his new plaything.

Not that you ever minded that, you liked seeing him become more willing to explore you. He was accepting you with each touch, each breath, each inhalation of your scent you were becoming that much more real to him. You were the same person he loved in life. The only difference is you were an immortal man with a set of wings that made any dove on Dirk’s windowsill jealous.

He nuzzles his nose against yours, one of his ironic ‘Eskimo kisses’ he gave you when he decided being sweet was on his top list of priorities. You can only laugh and press a kiss to his lips, quick and sweet but effective. You pull back but you’ve already drawn him in. His lips make their way back to yours again, a more firm kiss than yours but never lacking in passion. Almost mindlessly his right hand tangles itself in your hair, all the while deepening the kiss you had started.

You really can’t understand, or believe really, what is going on, but you go with it. He’s tilting his head to the side, nipping gently and licking at your lower lip. You know what he wants, and despite yourself you are more than willing to grant him access. Normally he’d have to work for it, prove how much he wanted it. But it didn’t seem fair, really… To either of you.

Your jaw releases some slack and allows your lips to part, his tongue gliding in, running along the top of yours. You smile, tongue flicking up to pin his down before they twist together in an embrace. He’s shifted, straddling your hips and pressing closer against you as his free hand grips your side. He’s moving around and you take advantage of his distraction to draw in his lower lip, sucking on it for a moment to draw a groan from him before you release it. His fingers curl tighter into your vest but you don’t mind.

He pulls away for a moment, panting out quick breaths to refill his lungs, allowing you to quickly do the same before diving back in. Out of instinct your hips roll up, his own grinding downwards against yours and you both pull back to groan a bit. You didn’t really expect your existence to go this way so quickly, but you understand. You know, after your death, he hadn’t really been around anyone, let alone had any sort of sexual relations. Which you supposed was good news, seeing as you wouldn’t be doing this at the current moment.

The two pairs of hips continue to roll and grind in rhythm, the kiss you two were still sharing becoming littered with quiet moans and sounds of pleasure. You know already you’ve got an ever growing problem in your pants, and by the feel of it so does your partner. But you two are too into the moment, the kiss you’re sharing and the contact you are making to want to do anything about it.

But you must. Because, despite your best efforts, kissing is becoming difficult if you can’t concentrate on it. And the more you go on with it the more Dirk pulls back to take in more breaths, moving even faster with his panting as he continues to indulge in your lips. You’re like a drug to him, something on the tip of his tongue he’s too scared to swallow because he’d rather be damned then chance losing you again.

“Dirk…” It’s breathy, but understandable. He’s still pressing kisses to your lips, not really minding that you were speaking but listening all the same, “I think… We need to… Move… To the bed… Room.” He pauses for a second, pressing one long, last kiss before he nods and pulls back, “Yeah, I think you’re right. This isn’t going to work well on the couch. Not with those, anyways.” He gestures to your wings with a nod and crawls off your lap. He snatches your hand and tugs you up, pulling you into an embrace and continues right where he left off.

He’s trusting you to guide the two of you to your room, no bumping into anything or tripping over flat surfaces. You do, of course, fumble with the door knob, but push it open with more ease and lead him to the bed. He’s trying to lay you down but you refuse, pressing him into the bed instead as you wind up straddling his hips and leaning down over him.

It’s a miracle how you two managed to hold your kiss through the entirety of your journey, but it sure as hell wasn’t the first time you did it. You’re sitting on his lap, in a sense, hips still rolling into his as he is returning the favor. His hands are fumbling with your vest, and you would help him, easily, but you’re quite a bit busy holding yourself up. Your wings oblige and fold up as he slips the vest over and off them. Then along comes your shirt, following the vest in a similar manner. He presses a hand to your chest and you let out a shuddered breath. You don’t even notice you’re biting your lip until he uses his own teeth to tug it out from under yours so he can continue what you two were doing.

Something clicks inside your mind and you decide that maybe, just maybe, his shirt had to go as well. So your fingers curl into the lower hem of his shirt, rolling it up to his chest before he has to assist you and lift his arms up. You pull from the kiss for a moment, both hands gripping the side of the shirt as you slide it off his person and toss it into the pile with yours. He snatches your lips back, hands sliding around your sides to your back and down the length of flesh before nimble fingers slipped under two layers of cloth and gripped your rear.

He squeezes and you moan, allowing him to push your hips down into his as he bucks his hips up in rapid procession. You can’t even bother to keep your lips to his as he does so, eventually grinding against his movements willingly while his fingers groped and massaged your sensitive skin.

A hand slowly slips itself around front, taking hold of your ever hardening length and sliding his fingers up the base. You shudder, crying out quietly as your wings extend and retract in quick movements. He seems to enjoy the look of them in contrast to the pleasure in your facial features, so he repeats his action and in turn causes yours to repeat in turn.

“Mnnh… Dirk, god, please, nnnh…” You’re needy, as expected, but more surprisingly he’s willing to oblige to your desires, a slow pumping motion starting up, movements guiding your hips to buck up into his hand. He seems pleased, and feels it too, but you remain near silent as he works you in his hand. His face is growing red, his breath is becoming fast, but overall his composure seemed to be collected, which for him was actually a first. In bed, at least. Neither of you shied away from showing your pleasure in intimate acts. You both felt it was easier to guide where you wanted to take things if you were vocal and quite a bit expressive.

You whine when he slides his hands out, burying your face in the crook of his neck while he worked the zipper and buttons of your pants like an expert. Well, at this point in your relationship, he was, though even more so now. It was like your first time all over again, minus the awkward stumbling and fumbling around. 

He guides both your pants and boxers over your hips, allowing you to reach down and tug them off and kick them into the floor before you worked at his. You didn’t work as precisely as he did. You just wanted them off, you didn’t care if it was graceful or not. It never was but simply that just proved your point.

Your attempt took longer, but his pants and under shorts were lying in a messy pile of clothing in the floor. He shifts a bit, leaning over to his nightstand to grab a condom and the necessary lubricant needed to get this started. He doesn’t use the first yet, though, popping open the cap on the lid to the lubricant, eyeing you quickly before coating his fingers.

You scoot up, tucking in your hips as he reaches up under you, index finger rubbing against your entrance to tease you. You hated that he never just got on with it, but god his teasing was worthwhile. Your breath hitches as he slides a digit inside you, free hand taking your now dripping with all signs of readiness length, stroking, coaxing, pumping it in motion with his finger. You’re biting his shoulder, bucking into his hand and trying to grind down against his finger, which quickly grows to two and the stretching is advancing faster than you expected.

It’s odd how foreign this feels, him stretching you, the pumping… It was all so odd but you needed this. He did too; this was his validation that you weren’t some hallucination, something he was dreaming up to help him cope with your death. You both needed this to prove to yourselves that neither of you were imagining things.

His middle finger presses against your prostate and your back arches with a cry into his neck. He responds with a breathy moan and inserts the last digit, hand around your length dropping to his abdomen. You lift your head and glance down, seeing him take some of the precum you both had released onto his index finger and draws it into his mouth. He encircles it with his lips, checks diving in and you know what he’s doing. He does this every time because you just adore how he looks when he sucks both of your fluids off his finger. He made the same face when you both ate popsicles, mainly because he was aware of how it affected you, so you did your best to avoid buying those.

Your mind had wandered, and you slap yourself mentally for allowing your brain to do that. He’s already pulled all three fingers from you and had torn open the condom. You watch him, panting and red faced, as he pulls the protection out, presses it to the tip of his member and rolls it over it. You fight back an involuntary bucking, biting your lip instead as he again pops open the lubricant bottle, coats his hand, and slicks himself up. He’s meticulous about how he does it, and the faces he’s making is driving you mad but you have to keep calm.

He pulls his hands back, resting them on your hips while you take hold of him at the base, hold him still, and line up. Your eyes take hold of his gaze, making sure he was alright before you moved any farther. He just gives a quick nod, biting his lip as you lower yourself down.

“Nnnhh ahh…” It’s a quiet cry, but he accepts it. His head is rolling back and his hips are pressing up. You moan again, a hand going behind you as you grab the blankets between his legs. He’s quickly propping them up, allowing you to use them as support, and giving him better control over hip movements.

The other hand you don is resting on his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths and jerking with each muscular contraction. Your movements are slow now, rising and falling in a manner you were more than aware that was driving him crazy. He was bucking up into you, but you denied him. You held his hips down and he groaned, his fingers gripped tighter on your hips while thumbs massaged your pelvic bones.

You’re still biting your lip though, wings extending slowly as you pick up pace. He’s responding warmly to this, bucking up into you with each increase in speed. After a short while you’re draw goes slack, falling open to allow panting to come easier and sounds of pleasure to release faster.

His left hand moves back down to your neglected manhood, pumping them along with the speed of your rising and falling. You pant out a cry of lusting want, gripping the sheet as your head falls backwards, “Ahh, Dirk…” Another quick extension and retraction of your wings distracts you for a moment, throwing you off moment and causing you to have to concentrate more to get back on track.

You’re nearly deafened with desire, but you can hear him calling out to you, saying your name in procession as you continued to bounce on his lap. Your whole lower half tingles, you don’t want it to, but it does. Your body is indicating the end of your escapade, telling you that you were done, at least until next time. Dirk seems to be catching on, feeling the throbbing within and along your length and picking up speed.

Even if it was to bring you down from your high you couldn’t help but speed up yourself, thus inadvertently pressing him against your prostate again. You both cry out, but you are the only one who reaches their climax. He drops his hand, drawing it up to his forehead to hold on until you slam yourself down on him. His own fingers entangle themselves in his hair as he calls out, bucking up and freezing as he reaches his own peak.

It must have been some high you had been on, you never really noticed your wings extending with you hit your release, holding there and dropping as you fell down. They seemed to be about as expressive as you were, you noticed, pulling yourself up and off him, falling down by his side, mindful of your wing. His eyes are shut, but he’s coming back to Earth too. You slide your arm around him, but instead he pulls you into a tight hug. He holds you like that, silent, head buried in your shoulder as he tries to compose yourself. You believe there is a possibility he is crying, but you believe if you ask he’d get upset and defensive.

“… I thought I lost you… I… I’m so sorry, Jake… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I gave up and I shouldn’t. I know you’d never leave me. Not then, not now, not ever… I’m so sorry for doubting you…. Don’t leave me again…” He is crying, so you rub his back and pulling him close, pressing your face into the top of his head and kissing him softly.

“I promise… I won’t leave you. I am here forever, and I’ll never leave you again. You don’t need to be sorry, Dirk… I do. I should never have left you in the first place. I’m sorry…”

You never assumed he would accept your existence, but he did. You never thought you’d get to hold him again or talk to him but you are. You have defied all laws of death. You were a miracle. A miracle sent to earth especially for a certain Dirk Strider. You like to think love has no bounds.

Right now you think you’re right.


End file.
